


Far From The Tree

by wrongfun (scumtrout)



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dubious Consent, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-05 07:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5365937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scumtrout/pseuds/wrongfun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fatherhood changes a man, but not in the ways you might think. (Amon/Lieutenant omegaverse babyfic. Really.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Additional warnings:** I've been pretty, uhhhhh... let's say _unromantic_ while trying to depict pregnancy and childbirth in this fic, so you might want to click the back button if pregnancy-related gruesomeness squicks you out.
> 
>  **Author's notes** : The omegaverse worldbuilding owes a huge debt to [quietprofanity's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/quietprofanity/pseuds/quietprofanity) [Yin, Yang and Squiggly](http://archiveofourown.org/series/29635) universe, so go read that.
> 
> This fic was written because I woke up one day and decided that I needed a short break from writing gen, although I've re-used a lot of names and characterizations from [The City Will Follow You](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1048573/chapters/2097190). This story probably won't exist if I hadn't started that one first. I guess I spent so much time thinking about Amon and the Lieutenant that something in me just flipped its lid and said, 'BUT WHAT IF THEY HAD A KID? WHAT _IF_? MY GOD. WHAT A CLUSTERFUCK.'

Officially, it starts with two adults getting too carried away during a long night alone together.

Their story is quite ordinary in some respects. _Person 1 is close to Person 2. Person 1 is an In-Between and Person 2 is a Yin. Person 1 and Person 2 have many shared interests. Person 1 and Person 2 make important long-term plans together. Person 1 takes care of Person 2 whenever he goes into heat._

And then there are a few other factors: _Person 1 screws Person 2 silly while pinning him down on a map table in one of their safe houses. Person 1 knows that life is short, and that Person 2 will do anything he asks. Person 1 is the leader of an insurgency and Person 2 is his Lieutenant._

__There's nothing remarkable about the conception, apart from the two men involved._ _

__\--_ _

__Unofficially, it all starts when the Lieutenant thinks he has food poisoning._ _

__He's sitting by an attic window in an empty house, waiting for one of the Agni Kais' runners to pass by. He's watching the street below with a pair of binoculars. He's alone. He's trying to stay focused. He's starting to get cramp. And he's just thinking,_ shit, this is boring, I'm never volunteering for stakeout duty again_, when he breaks into a cold sweat for no good reason.

He immediately regrets eating the cold two day old jian bing that he had for breakfast that morning.

\--

As the days pass, the Lieutenant starts to suspect that the jian bing is not to blame. 

His bad habit of eating shit like two day old jian bing might be the least of his problems. 

\--

Though he has other duties and can't spare the time, the Lieutenant stops being the Lieutenant for a day, and goes to see a doctor.

The doctor gives his diagnosis, takes one glance at the man's expression, and spares him a look of sympathy.

\--

There are some ideas that are a little difficult to entertain when your life revolves around secrecy and violence.

Amon doesn't comment on any changes to his Lieutenant's behavior. 

Amon notices more than his Lieutenant probably gives him credit for.

Amon waits weeks for his Lieutenant to confess.

\--

Then, one morning, the Lieutenant announces, without preamble, "I'm pregnant."

Well, there it is.

Took you a while to find the nerve to tell me that, didn't it? Amon thinks. Not that he's in any place to judge the man for withholding the truth.

The two of them are standing in the cellar of another safe house. The cellar is being used as a briefing room, and tacked to the walls are pictures of gang members they're keeping an eye on: a silent audience of forgettable faces with lifeless eyes. Amon wishes his Lieutenant had chosen somewhere else to break the news.

Amon is also glad that he's wearing a mask.

His Lieutenant watches him carefully while gripping his goggles in his hands. Amon gets the sense that the man would like to apologize but doesn't quite dare.

Amon appears to consider the situation, although he's had his suspicions for a while and he's already drawn some conclusions as to what should be done. He taps his fingers against a map table in thought. 

"Do you want to see the pregnancy through?" Amon asks.

The Lieutenant looks surprised that Amon has given him an option. He stands in silence for a few seconds before saying, "Yes." 

"Then you'll take a year's leave," Amon says.

"Understood," his Lieutenant replies automatically, then says, "That's... Wait. A whole year?"

"I'm sure you'll find ways to make good use of the time," Amon tells him.

"Yeah, but-"

"Your safety will be of utmost importance."

His Lieutenant briefly narrows his eyes, then glances away. There's a lot that can happen in a year. 

Amon wants to sigh, quite aware that he's given his Lieutenant yet another thing to feel bitter about. The Lieutenant doesn't need any more excuses for self-pity.

"This isn't a punishment," Amon adds, because perhaps that needs to be said.

"Yeah, I figured..." says his Lieutenant, before sighing. "I'm just, well, shit, I don't know. I understand."

Amon feels a small twinge of sympathy. He doesn't know how he'd handle things if he was in a similar situation. Then again, he can't really imagine himself being in the Lieutenant's position. It's not something he'd permit.

"I'll still need you in a year from now," Amon says.

His Lieutenant gives him one of those wretchedly hopeful looks.

"You'll be fine," Amon says, because his Lieutenant always believes him when he says that. Though, so far, it's been true.

\--

Once they have hashed out some plans, the Lieutenant seems slightly more relaxed. He leaves Amon on relatively good terms, given the circumstances.

It's been agreed that only a few select people will be told about the baby's parentage, as a precaution. If these people are not told, then they will reach certain conclusions by themselves, and Amon wouldn't want anyone to think he's hiding something.

Noatak listens to the Lieutenant's footsteps as they fade into the distance. Then, when Noatak is absolutely sure that he's alone, he punches a wall. 

Noatak wastes the next half-hour treating the damage to his hand and trying to figure out who he's angry at.

\--

Necessity forces the Lieutenant to return to the world of normal people.

He's given a room above a tea house (an _actual_ tea house, not something seedy) belonging to one of their key intel guys. The guy's name is Jiru. Jiru is short, and brawny, and not entirely unattractive, though that last aspect should be lost on the Lieutenant.

The Lieutenant understands that Jiru will be keeping an eye on him. The rationale for this is that Jiru has already lived with pregnant Yins on two other separate occasions, and also Jiru has a reputation for taking in waifs and strays and doesn't give a single fuck about propriety (which may be why his ex husband now lives across town with their kid). Jiru is quite happy to give shelter to someone who's... Well, unmarried and compromised.

Jiru is a Yang, but no one's perfect.

The Lieutenant isn't crazy on Yangs, since they tend to accuse him of having an attitude problem.

If it was up to the Lieutenant, he would've preferred to stay with another Yin, but his situation forces him to realize something: he doesn't know other Yins. Or at least, he doesn't know any other Yins who've made it this far in the organization, even though he knew plenty when he started out. And this had never bothered him. He'd never seen it as a problem. (A stint in prison when he was younger taught him that the idea of Yin solidarity was a steaming pile of bullshit.) He'd fitted in with non-Yins just fine, and he'd even been mistaken for a Yang on a few occasions.

Maybe he'll get along with Jiru just fine, maybe not. Time will tell.

When the Lieutenant arrives at the tea house, he quickly turns down Jiru's offer of food, and heads straight to the quarters that have been set aside for him.

Then he stands in the doorway of the neat, clean, and surprisingly large room where he'll be staying for the foreseeable future, and he feels completely lost. The room is too strange to him. He'll be spending a lot of time in it, but it will never be his. It belongs to Jiru, or to someone else.

(In time, he heads back downstairs and seeks Jiru out so he can apologize for his bad manners.)

\--

The Lieutenant stops being the Lieutenant again, goes back to being Wei, which is as good a fake name as any. (He would've gone with Lee, but just about every second person in the organization is called Lee already.) 

He spends some time trying to figure out who 'Wei' is meant to be, and what he'll say if he'll ever be required to talk about the baby's other parent. The process of adjusting to his new identity feels like a chore. 

He's going to be bored out of his skull for the rest of the year.

Jiru cajoles him out of his room, and draws him into his kitchen, where he makes tea. Wei doesn't even like tea. Still, Wei sits at the kitchen table and resigns himself to everything. There's only a brief moment where his belly brushes against the table's edge, and he looks down and realizes that his own body is already beginning to feel alien, but he gets over it.

Jiru watches him drink the tea, and asks for his opinion on it, and Wei tells him that it's okay. It must be an okay tea because it tastes slightly less like dirt and cigarette ash than another teas.

Jiru then asks, "How far along are you?"

Wei only shrugs. He knows very little about pregnancy. Until now, pregnancy, like death, has been something that happened to other people.

Jiru breaths in, leans back in his chair, and sits in silence for a moment. After a bout of contemplation, he looks Wei up and down, and says, "I'm imagining a scowling baby with a moustache."

Wei just gives him a look.

"You've seen a doctor, right?" Jiru asks next. "What did they tell you when you first found out about things?"

"Not a lot," Wei answers. By the time he'd summoned up the guts to see a doctor (denial was a powerful thing), his stomach already looked slightly bloated, and the doctor had just poked and prodded him and asked questions for a few minutes before coming to a conclusion. Apparently the diagnosis had been a no-brainer.

And maybe Wei has no right to feel surprised by anything about his situation. He's been banging Amon like a drum for about two years now. Something was bound to go wrong. (And part of him asks: _did he knock me up on purpose? To obtain an heir, or ensure loyalty, or get me out of the way for a while, or whatever?_ He hates himself for asking these questions, but the hatred doesn't make the questions go away. You don't fuck someone for two years without getting an inkling as to what sort of person they are.)

Jiru stares at Wei like he's waiting for him to keep talking.

"Yao will be keeping an eye on me," Wei adds. Yao is one of the organization's medics. Yao's an In-Between, like a lot of people in the organization. Maybe Wei should put in a request for an actual Yin midwife, but the organization is (understandably) leery about bringing in outsiders.

"How big's the bump?" Jiru asks, with a sudden smile.

Wei fixes him with another stare. He'd like to continue ignoring the bump for a little longer, although he has to wear baggy clothing in order to do so.

"Sorry, I should mind my own business," Jiru says quickly.

Wei drinks his tea and keeps eyeballing the guy. 

"You'll be okay," Jiru says.

Wei wonders why Jiru feels the need to reassure him.

\--

The whole problem with pregnancy is that it makes you do too much thinking about your biology and all the crap that goes with it. And people like to tell you that being Yin is meant to mean all sorts of things, but Wei always knew, _That's not me. I'm not here for that. That's not what my life should be like._

When Wei is alone and Jiru is busy working, Wei sits in the kitchen and tries to put his thoughts down on paper, but he just ends up doodling wavy lines for a while.

He knows this much, though: when you're a kid, you notice stuff, like how often you see two Yangs talking while a Yin stands silently nearby with a baby on his or her hip. You notice the way Yins tend to travel in groups, and avoid certain places. You notice how so many people in authority are Yangs.

When Wei was a teenager and he found out that he was Yin, he'd thrown a shitfit. Everyone around him had implied, in one way or another, that being a Yin was fuck-awful. Yins were meant to follow orders and be self-sacrificing, and they were meant to be fine with that. A lot of the non-Yins in Wei's life seemed to find this notion romantic, and they'd sing the praises of Yin submission in the most condescending way possible, even though most of them were utterly baffled by it and considered submission to be beneath them.

Wei could never get his head around it. Yins are so precious, and a virtuous Yin is an asset to any family, people seemed to say. _Now shut up, do as you're told, and feel slightly ashamed of yourself while you're at it. And don't talk about your weird bodily functions._

 _Submission is undignified. Unless you're a Yin. Then it's_ still _undignified, but no one expects anything different from you._

Wei had concluded that everyone could shove their stupid opinions up their collective asshole, and had decided to go figure a few things out for himself.

By his mid teens, he'd developed a _reputation_ , although in all fairness, it's wasn't like any Yin in his village had to do much to get deemed as brazen. "YOU LITTLE SLUT," his mother had screamed as she'd thrown a volley of pots and pans at him, "YOU'RE GOING TO END UP UNMARRIED AND PREGNANT BY THE TIME YOU'RE FIFTEEN. WE CAN'T TAKE CARE OF ANOTHER BABY. YOU'D HAVE TO SELL IT. YOU'D HAVE TO LIVE WITH SELLING YOUR OWN BABY." Wei had just laughed at her and kept ducking.

His older sister had been more reasonable about it. She'd just taken him aside one day, gripped his shoulders, looked him in the eyes, and said, "Stay away from Yangs. Especially ones who're older than you."

"You're a Yang," he'd pointed out.

She'd muttered, "Yeah, so I know exactly what Yangs are like."

"Older Yangs have the most money," he'd told her, still grinning.

His sister had looked pained. "They won't see your as a person. They'll see you as something they can use."

"Yeah, well, maybe I don't see them as people, either," he'd replied, and his sister had just given up and cuffed him around the head before giving him another lecture about how he needed to grow up and find a spouse or he was going to end up like their mother. His sister had even tried to find suitors for him a few times, but her choices were all too boring. Most of the Yangs she'd brought to their house had taken one look at the scrappy teenager (usually under-dressed, usually sporting a black eye) lounging on the front step, and backed off. 

In retrospect, maybe he'd been lucky that she hadn't snapped one day and sold him off to someone who could 'improve' his personality. He's heard some horror stories about what can happen to Yins who don't behave. Maybe he should've been more grateful to his sister. She'd given him enough freedom to let him make his own mistakes.

And he'd watched other young men and women of his age get married off and knocked up, and he'd remained lucky in some respects, and there were even times when people had forgotten that he was a Yin. And he'd thought to himself, _yeah, I'm fine._

His heat cycle had been like clockwork, and the heats themselves had always felt pretty good. He'd avoided taking suppressants unless he needed them solely to avoid skipping work, though there was something pretty shitty about having to inject some gunk into your arm just so you wouldn't inconvenience anyone by by taking a day off. Amon had always been very accommodating regarding Wei's heats... Though, to be fair, that may have been because Amon spent most of Wei's heats glued to his ass. Non-Yins are pretty tolerant of heats when they stand something to gain from them.

Now Wei jots down baby names on the piece of paper (which is probably bad luck, but he does it anyway), and wants to kick himself.

\--

Elsewhere, Amon - or rather, Noatak, since Amon's anxieties are all Noatak's - does his best to avoid thinking about fatherhood. This child, if it survives to adulthood, will not inherit anything good from him. The best kind of father he can be is an absent one. 

The child might hate him, but it will only hate him in a vague, impersonal way. He won't give it the opportunity to feel any love towards him. He is doing the child a huge favor in this regard. Loving a bad parent only leads to confusion.

He hopes that the Lieutenant will be a slightly better father, although his expectations are low.

He keeps his distance.

\--

No one expects Wei to do very much. The days pass slowly. He helps out at a repair shop ran by a comrade. He fixes Satocycles. He does a lot of cooking, and lives on cassava cake (Jiru warns him that he'll give birth to a cassava if he's not careful). He keeps up a strict exercise regimen while he still can.

Whenever he isn't occupied with work, he seethes. His mind runs through every stereotype about Yins being useless for everything except popping out babies. He wonders why the hell he agreed to take a whole year off. It's not like he's injured. He might not be in fighting condition, but there's other stuff that he'd be useful for.

There are plenty of nights where he gives serious thought to tracking Amon down and telling him what he thinks about the fact that he's been put on the sidelines. But, shit, a lot of people would say that he's brought this all on himself by getting pregnant in the first place. And if Amon wants to keep him out of harm's way, doesn't that just prove he cares? Wei's seen heavily-pregnant Yins working the fields back home. If you're a Yin and your partner allows you to take a whole year off work for the sake of your health, then that's a luxury. Inactivity is privilege that's usually only enjoyed by rich people. 

Not that Wei is in any great rush to emulate the habits of the wealthy, mind you. It's just that there haven't been many times in his life when people have treated him like this.

So, whenever Wei's resentment wanes, he chooses to believe that Amon has his best interests at heart. The alternative is too shitty to contemplate, and Wei has enough to worry about already.

\--

Wei's worries burst out of him one morning, when he's sitting with Jiru for breakfast. Wei opens his mouth, takes a deep breath, feels an awful need to talk, and thinks, _well, there goes the last of my emotional continence_.

"I can't raise this kid!" Wei announces.

Jiru freezes with a spoonful of congee halfway to his mouth. Perhaps Wei just said that louder than intended.

"I don't even like kids," Wei adds, slamming his right hand down on the tabletop. Kids are just tiny adults that people get weirdly sentimental about. No one likes kids. The majority of parents don't even seem to like kids, given how much time they spend yelling at or ignoring them.

Jiru sets his bowl down and gives Wei his full attention. "Well, you already know a lot of people who'd be honored to help you look after a child."

Great. Wei won't even be raising a _normal_ kid. Wei will be raising a kid with a big fucking legacy to live up to. No pressure.

"Yeah, but..." Wei runs his hands through his hair in frustration, as if he's trying to massage some sense into his own brain. "Do I look like parent material to you?"

"Uh, I've seen you help with chi blocking lessons," Jiru says. "You actually get really paternal. It's..."

Wei is going to punch Jiru in the throat if he finishes that sentence with 'it's cute'.

"You'll be a great father," Jiru adds quickly.

"I don't care," Wei says. He's started talking. Now he can't stop. It's actually pretty unpleasant. The pregnancy has hijacked his body and turned him into an over-emotional fuckwit. "I hate this. I hate all of this shit. I hate knowing that no matter what I do, I'm going to mess this kid up on some level, because every parent messes up their kid in some way. I hate looking like a fucking egg on stilts. I hate not knowing what's going on. I hate the cramps, and, I don't know, the fucking... varicose veins in places where you don't fucking want varicose veins. Pregnancy is fucking horrifying. I don't want to push something the size of a roast duck out through my asshole."

Wei then watches Jiru's reaction. Yangs tend to get all squeamish when you talk about the technicalities of reproduction, as if they were all neatly delivered into the world by magic instead of being squeezed out through some orifice like everybody else.

"You'll stretch," Jiru says, utterly unfazed.

"Easy for you to say." Wei might punch him the throat anyway, for being a Yang who has stupid opinions on things that he'll never suffer from.

"Childbirth is natural," Jiru says. "The body adapts. If it was that bad, no one would ever have more than one child."

 _Unless they were forced to. Or... Unless they believed they had to_ , Wei thinks, but doesn't say that.

"You know what my mother always told my older sister whenever she was being a brat?" Wei adds. "She was always like, 'Tam, I was in labor for a day and a half with you and I tore a muscle while I was pushing you out because your shoulders got stuck and your head was too big." _And your head is still too big, Tam_ , his mother would say. Wei wonders where the two of them are now. Tradition (and common sense) suggests that you should go live with your Yin parent when you're having your first child, but Wei hasn't spoken to the old bag since he was twenty-something.

"There are exercises you can do," Jiru says helpfully, "to... widen things."

Wei has ended up trapped in a kitchen with the most liberal Yang on earth. "That's disgusting," Wei says, even though he talking about his own ass just six seconds ago. "And, hell, I don't know, _another thing_ : the whole idea of breastfeeding gives me fucking hives."

Jiru points at him with his spoon. "You know, my first wife felt the same way."

Wei looks down at his chest. "At least she was a woman."

Jiru snorts. "You don't know much about women. It's never that simple."

"I don't care about how your first wife felt!" Wei snaps, then puts his head in his hands. Jiru has the sense to keep quiet for the rest of breakfast.

Later on in the day, it occurs to Wei that there's no way in hell he'd ever have a conversation like that with Amon. Amon might take it as a sign that he was weak and unreliable.

Wei grudgingly decides that Jiru is an okay person.

\--

While Jiru is fine, Wei's general opinion on Yangs remains low. 

Little things happen here and there. An old man keeps staring at him while he helps out at the tea house. A group of teenagers mutter and snicker as he passes them on the street. The woman who runs the local grocery store trails after him and tries to make conversation while he tries to shop. Some drunk guy on a park bench yells something incoherent at him, and Wei doesn't bother to figure out what the drunk guy actually said.

There's one really nasty incident where a creepy asshole tries to follow Wei home, and Wei spends the entire walk mulling over whether he should lure him into somewhere dark and hidden and break the guy's kneecaps. The only thing that stops him is the fact that it might draw attention from the authorities.

And while none of these incidents deter him from going outside, each one messes with his head. He's left wondering what he smells like to people. Most pregnant Yins would smell like their mates. Wei probably just smells like himself. But he's not in heat, so his scent shouldn't obvious, right?

\--

Wei watches Jiru carefully whenever they're together. If Wei _does_ smell appealing, then Jiru should behave like the proverbial canary in the coal mine.

But Jiru gives no indication that he's interested in Wei like that. 

Jiru remains safe.

\--

The more weeks pass, the more often Wei finds himself at Jiru's kitchen table, spilling his guts to the guy.

"Lots of people die giving birth," Wei says. "And that's not touching all the reasons why you're not meant to name a kid until it's thirty days old."

"You won't die, you big palooka," Jiru replies.

Wei ignores him. "If you have to choose between making sure the kid lives or making sure that I live, choose the kid, okay?"

"Someone woke up feeling morbid today," Jiru says, then makes an attempt at being helpful. "Do you want to talk to Yao again? He can reassure you that you're healthy."

Wei saw Yao only three days ago. Yao said he was in great shape. Despite, you know, the uncomfortable swelling in various places, and the stomach issues, and the odd bout of sexual frustration, and the back ache, and the occasional intense need for human contact. Wei's fine. "Yeah, I don't know," Wei mutters. "Just promise you'll look after the kid if anything happens."

"That's a given," says Jiru.

"Make sure no one hurts them."

That's a bit of a tall order, so Jiru can only say, "I'll do what I can."

Wei almost adds, _Keep them away from the organization,_ but he knows how that would sound. So instead he says, "Don't let them turn out like me."

Jiru now gives him an odd look.

"I mean..." Wei says, very carefully, "...I don't want their life to be anything like mine." Though this still begs the question: _Why not?_

But Jiru seems to understand. "Their life won't need to be anything like yours."

Wei would like to believe that.

\--

Eventually a morning arrives when Wei just comes right out with it and says:

"I thought Amon would've bothered to visit me by now."

Jiru breathes in, and gets a look on his face like he's trying to think of a good response.

"You know what? Never mind. Just... Pretend you didn't hear that," Wei then adds. He takes the dishes from the table, dumps them in the sink, then leaves the kitchen, intent on finding somewhere to mope in private.

\--

Wei sleeps badly and has weird dreams. This isn't anything new, given that he's always been prone to nightmares, but now he has a few new ones.

There's a recurring one where he's on his hands and knees on the floor, trying not to scream even though it feels as if his insides are disintegrating and turning to liquid, while Amon just stands nearby, watching, patiently waiting to see if Wei will produce a healthy child.

There's also a much nicer dream where he just wakes up in a bed and Jiru offers him a cup of tea and says, "Oh, by the way, the baby is in the next room," and Wei is like, "Oh, so I've had it? Hey, that didn't hurt at all!" and Wei gets up from bed perfectly fine and walks to the next room and finds a fat, clean, perfect baby sleeping in a cot. This dream also unsettles him. Partly because he always remembers how ecstatic he is whenever he sees the baby.

Wei tells Jiru about the second dream. The first dream is no one's business.

Wei dreams once, and only once, that he has a small child who turns out to be a waterbender, but he doesn't think much of it.


	2. Chapter 2

The air outside turns cold, and the days grow short. Wei spends a lot of time at the repair shop, comforted by the smell of grease and engine exhaust. He'll miss the place when he has to quit working there. The shop's owner - a crotchety old fart of an In-Between - has already banned him from doing any heavy lifting, and Wei gets yelled at whenever the geriatric busybody catches him crouching to pick things up off the floor. Wei has told the old fart to fuck off on multiple occasions, to no effect. The old fart knows who Wei is, but doesn't care. It's like Wei's a teenager again. Fixing things, getting yelled at by old people, telling old aforementioned people to go eat shit. Good times.

Wei sits on a crate in the shop's yard during his breaks. One of his co-workers, a scrawny teenager in overalls, always brings him a cup of tea, probably by order of The Fart.

"What's it like?" the girl asks, on a day when business is quiet.

Wei stares at her blankly, then follows her gaze to his abdomen. He sniffs, as his sense of smell has been unusually sharp lately. He can tell that she's a Yin.

"Weird," he answers.

"Like, weird how?" the girl asks as she hands the tea over to him.

Wei almost says, 'my skin is too tight, my feet itch, my asshole is swollen, I talk too much' and then he just replies with, "It's hard to describe. Go ask a midwife."

"But, I mean, how bad does it suck?"

"It's not that bad," Wei says, out of reflex.

The girl seems to reflect upon this, then says, "I don't think I could go through with having a kid, you know?"

"It's one of those things. I guess you just deal with it," Wei says, even though he doubts that he's really dealing with it at all.

The girl makes a face. "I'm a wimp," she says.

Wei refrains from confessing that, technically, he is also a wimp.

The girl then falls into a pensive silence for a moment, before offering, "People, um... People keep guessing about who the father is. I hear them talk. The other day, I heard-"

Wei cuts her off. "I don't want to know the names of the people talking shit about me, thanks." Though maybe he _should_ know. Maybe he should go have a friendly word with them. But there's nothing he could say that wouldn't cause further suspicion. 

The girl just nods. Then she gets a sly look. "Are you going to marry Jiru?"

What the fuck. That's a hell of a question. "Uh. Why would I marry Jiru?"

"Because you've been living with him for, like, ages?" the girl says.

Wei wants to argue this, but she's right. He's been staying at the tea house for at least four months. He has no idea where the time has gone. Just what, exactly, has he been doing, apart from baking cakes and fixing bikes?

"And if you married Jiru, you'd get free dim sum for the rest of your life?" the girl adds.

Hm. That's tempting. But:

Wei takes a deep breath. "Kid, when you marry someone, society tries to shoehorn you into the role of 'husband', and if you're a Yin and a nonbender, then that means you're gonna be doing housework and popping out babies for the rest of your life. Especially if you marry a Yang. Marriage is like a career. Your spouse is like your employer: they'll provide for you so long as you can perform certain services for them. It's basically a socially-acceptable form of prostitution. And no one'll take you seriously if you try to be something _other_ than a husband, because everyone'll be like, 'oh, it doesn't matter if we don't pay him much, because his mate is already supporting him, so he's probably just working to earn a little spending money for booze and cigarettes'. And when you marry a Yang, they can get real fucking entitled and all get like, 'I have to support your useless ass all the time, I've worked ten hours at a real job today today, the least you could do is go make me dinner and give me a blowjob, yadda yadda whatever,' and then when your body is wrecked from having kids, the bastard will probably just have an affair anyway, and you _probably won't even care_ , because by that point, the thought of him sticking his withered old dingle dangle in you will make you want to puke. It's all complete shit."

Wei figures that this much better answer than 'I want to marry Amon', especially as Amon is clearly avoiding him.

(Wei briefly imagines himself standing in a kitchen, wearing a frilly apron and a haunted expression, while an older version of Amon sits at the table like a useless flatulent sack of lard in a vest and pants, ignoring him as he reads a newspaper.)

The girl stands there as if she's considering what he's said, and she looks absolutely bummed out by it. Then she frowns a little, and murmurs, "Do you think Jiru would be like that?"

"Like what?"

"I mean, do you think he'd be a bad Yang to marry?"

Wei just shrugs. "I hate marriage as an institution."

The girl nods thoughtfully.

"And now you're thinking, 'fuck, this guy is exactly as crazy and bitter as people say he is', right?" Wei asks her.

"Uh. No," she says quickly. 

Wei chuckles darkly. "Thanks for the tea."

The girl gives an awkward bow before heading back to one of the work sheds.

Wei drinks his tea, and wonders what the fuck Amon is doing at the moment.

Amon sure as shit isn't having conversations about marriage, that's for certain.

\--

"You're brooding again," Jiru tells Wei late in the evening, as they sit at a table in the empty tea house with cups of some nasty herbal drink that Wei wants to believe is alcohol. (It doesn't taste remotely like alcohol, but that won't stop him from trying.)

Wei shrugs. He broods. That's what he does. There are worse ways to handle things. For example, he's had a few moments today where he's wanted to beat someone to death with a blunt object. Brooding is really the healthier option.

"How are you?" Jiru asks. Jiru likes to ask this question often. Wei doesn't even find it annoying anymore.

The quiet, cigarette-scented darkness of the tea house gives Wei a sense of security, so he feels safe enough to throw all propriety to the wind and answer, "Bored and horny." 

Maybe he should've said _lonely_ , not horny, but horny sounds slightly less pathetic. And he has been feeling pretty restless lately. Masturbation has become a joyless chore ( _insert finger into orifice, initiate orgasm, dispense fluid_ ), and whenever he yanks his pants down in the privacy of his bedroom, there's always an unpleasant moment where he looks at his swollen belly and thinks, _right, where's the son of a bitch who did this to me?_

Jiru gives him a look that's both sympathetic and irritatingly knowing. 

It's only then that Wei realizes something nasty: Jiru can smell the loneliness on him.

Wei should've known better than to be so candid with the guy. At the end of the day, Jiru's a Yang. And Wei, apparently, is a fucking idiot.

Then Jiru just comes right out with it and asks, "Do you want me to help?"

Jiru actually manages to say this in the most polite way possible, almost as if he's asking (yet again) whether Wei just wants another cup of tea, and Wei just sits there in absolute disgust for a full five seconds before he can bring himself to react.

"What?" says Wei.

"I-" Jiru begins, before thinking better of it. He studies Wei's face with a look of dawning horror. Apparently he wasn't expecting Wei to react like this, which just makes Wei angrier. What sort of person does Jiru think he is?

"Did you just proposition me?" Wei asks. All this time he's been living with the guy, and the creepy fucker has just been playing it cool while he waits for Wei to roll over and spread his legs.

"I was told," Jiru says, extremely carefully, "that if you needed any sort of... comfort, I'd be allowed to provide it. I was _told_ this."

Wei glances away, and unthinkingly scans his surroundings for an object that can be used as a blunt instrument. There's nothing to hand apart from an expensive-looking tea pot. Wei has smashed a tea pot over someone's head before. The dainty little expensive ones don't do much damage. You need one of the big earthenware fuckers to really knock someone's lights out. Maybe he should just use one of the chairs, although he knows from experience that hitting someone with a chair is actually pretty hard because you can never swing it fast enough.

"But I believe there's been a miscommunication somewhere," Jiru adds, sounding pained. "I'm really sorry, Lieutenant. Please believe me that I wouldn't have said something like that if I didn't think... You'd..."

 _I was told,_ Jiru said.

"Where the fuck did-... Why did you think-" Wei says. He might be too angry to talk. Maybe he should just start punching. Punching is a reliable method of expressing your emotions. No one can misinterpret a punch to the face.

Jiru looks like he would like to crawl under the table and die now. "It was expected that you'd have certain... needs, and..."

Wei gestures to his belly. "You know who the father of this kid is, right?"

"Amon thought that if he visited you to attend to your, er, requirements then it might allow people to figure out your location which could put you at risk and he didn't want that so-" Jiru closes his eyes like a man who's driving a Satomobile that's about to collide with an oncoming vehicle.

Wei stands up and leans over the table, inasmuch as his bump will allow it. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm repeating what Amon told me."

"Bullshit. He would've discussed this stuff with me before talking to you about it."

"I thought he had," Jiru snaps. "I mean, why _wouldn't_ he do that?"

Good question.

Where _is_ Amon right now, for that matter?

Wei's anger deserts him, leaving him cold and nauseated.

Wei just says, "Huh," before leaving the table.

"Wei?" Jiru calls after him.

Wei calmly makes his way behind the counter, heads up the stairs to the floor where his room is, locks the door behind him, and plants himself down on the bed.

\--

Jiru visits him around midnight.

"I've just come to apologize for-" Jiru begins.

"Stop talking before I come out there and tear your dick off," Wei tells him.

Jiru's footsteps retreat back down the stairs.

\--

Sleep is now impossible so, by candlelight, Wei sits on the bedroom floor and reads a book on the invasion of Ba Sing Se. He pores over the sentences carefully. He's not had all that much time to read before. There are still plenty of words that baffle him, but he thinks he's getting the hang of it.

The baby moves occasionally. Wei has stopped seeing this as a big deal, although sometimes the kicks serve as a nice little reminder that he's not alone. He decides to read aloud.

During the hours before dawn, the room's window silently opens, and Amon slips in with a draft of cold air.

"What, did you suddenly remember that I exist?" Wei says without looking up from his book. He feels reassuringly angry again, which is a definite improvement over being miserable.

Amon pauses, just a silhouette in front of the window, then says, "Lieutenant."

Right. The Lieutenant is who Wei is meant to be, isn't he?

Wei snaps the book closed, and stands, feeling all too aware of the weight of his belly. Then the hairs on the back of his neck rise, and he gets the impression that he's being scrutinized. Instinct tells him to mind his mouth and show a little deference, but he ignores it. Submission might be part of his nature, but he can still choose who he shows submission to.

Amon's presence fills the room. There are times when the man seems to bends the universe so it all revolves around him - in a fight, he's always a patch of calm surrounded by a vortex of movement - and Wei gets a sense of that now. Wei feels small and weak in comparison but, as usual, there's something pleasurable about this. 

In the past, Wei used to find a lot of comfort in knowing his place. Now he's no longer sure where his place _is_ , but his body hasn't quite caught up with his mind yet, and Amon smells pretty good. It's an unfortunate fact of life that a person's appeal isn't always diminished by your awareness that they're a giant bastard.

And if Wei starts he starts to get hard and wet in response to Amon's proximity, then that's just desperation and hormones, nothing more. He's old enough to know that he doesn't have to listen to his body, even though sometimes his body presents a pretty compelling argument. He's quite well-acquainted with the part of himself that just wants to yell, 'WOO! SEX! SEX! SEX!' white banging its fists on the table.

"You look well," Amon says. (It's true; even though Wei has been bored and depressed lately, he's still noticed fewer lines under his eyes, and he no longer feels tired all the time.)

Amon's voice sounds different. He's more subdued than usual.

Wei doesn't say anything.

"I want to apologize," Amon says, echoing Jiru somewhat. This might be the first - and possibly the last - time that Wei will ever hear Amon apologize for anything. "I realize that this situation isn't easy for you. For what it's worth, you weren't forgotten."

This apology isn't good enough, and Wei shouldn't feel any relief from hearing it.

Amon's gaze surveys Wei's body again, and Wei tries to feel repulsed by him. Wei has heard of people getting aroused by the sight and scent of their pregnant mates before. They must get a possessive kick out of it, a sense of _that's mine_. Wei glances to Amon's crotch to see if he's hard, but it's impossible to tell.

Maybe Amon doesn't find Wei attractive at all. Maybe Wei just wants to believe he does.

Wei _still_ doesn't say anything. He takes a deep breath and grits his teeth before pulling his shirt off, which isn't much of a pretty sight anymore given that he's a mass of pasty flesh covered in stretch marks, and his nipples have definitely seen better days. (But, see, he's such a good Yin: when his partner eventually deigns to _pay some fucking attention to him_ , he shuts up and removes his clothes. All he needs to do now is get down on all fours, and he's set.) Then he advances on Amon, grabs Amon's right hand, and plants Amon's hand on his distended belly.

Amon freezes as if he's just felt someone walk over his grave, which would be funny if it wasn't so sad.

Wei has become skeptical about some of Amon's claims, but he can believe what Amon's said about losing his family. That seems like it might be true on some level, given the way that Amon's shoulder's slump as he's touching him.

"Look at me," Wei murmurs. "I look like..." He fails to come up with a good comparison, although the phrase 'egg on stilts' is becoming more apt with each passing day.

Amon's gaze moves from Wei's face to his belly, which must feel firm and warm under his palm.

Wei tries to keep a good grip on his anger, but it's slipping away from him. Anger doesn't actually feel good. Anger's just a stopgap emotion used to keep the more dangerous thoughts at bay. And it's been a fairly long time, by Wei's standards, since he last got laid. He wants some physical contact. He wants to be reminded that he's an actual human being who's worth touching.

Amon remains still for a moment, taking shallow breaths, and then his hand moves down the curve of Wei's abdomen. Down, down, down...

If Wei was younger and dumber, he might be okay with that. He might even forgive the fact that Amon is trying to play him like a cheap erhu.

"Did you tell Jiru that he's allowed to fuck me?" Wei growls. 

Amon blinks as if he didn't see that question coming. Wei hopes that Amon had an erection, because he's probably just killed it dead. Hell, maybe his cock has just retreated into his abdomen, like he's one of those monks who can retract their junk so it's safely tucked away during fights. Maybe Wei has just given him an anti-boner.

Amon answers the question by quickly removing his hand from Wei's body.

Wei's heart sinks. 

"You fucking asshole. You thought you could ditch me and pawn me off onto someone else," Wei says. Ahh, his anger is back. Good. "You weren't even subtle about it. How dumb do you think I am?"

Wei almost adds, _if you were a Yang, you'd never consider pulling a stunt like this_ , but he manages to stop himself before the words reach his mouth. The fact that Amon isn't a Yang isn't the issue here.

Amon's eyes harden. He seems unsurprised by Wei's outburst. "Lieutenant, listen. I knew I wouldn't be able to support you as you deserve. Jiru was meant to give you the option of-"

"Wait. Shut the fuck up," Wei says, holding up his hands. "Did you think I'd be willing to screw someone else behind your back? Seriously? You thought that? And you never thought to discuss this shit with me, you just figured you'd avoid me and then I'd-"

Amon speaks very slowly, very clearly. " _Listen_ , please, because-"

Wei interrupts him again. He's on a roll. "You listen. I resent the fact that I'm having this stupid fucking conversation with you. This shouldn't be happening. It's been months since I last saw you. Fucking _months_. And now I'm having to bitch at you about this crap, as if neither of us got better stuff to do than argue about stupid relationship bullshit. We're meant to be fighting a war. We're not meant to behave like this. _You're_ meant to talk to me about stuff. You're meant to be the smart one. This is pathetic. I'm a pretty patient guy, but _what the fuck_."

Amon doesn't reply, but watches Wei like he's waiting to see if he's finished.

Wei isn't finished. "We meant to have control of the city by one-seventy. We got five years to get to that point. That's your idea. Five years. That's nothing. And I'm wasting a year doing fuck-all because everyone treats me like I'm an invalid, and you've obviously figured I'm not worth your time now that I'm no use to you, and you've clearly made _plans_ for me, and here I am, yelling at you like I'm some fucking neglected housewife or something."

Amon lets out a small sigh. 

"I wish I'd never fucked you," Wei says, quieter now.

"Well, there you have it," Amon replies, albeit gently. "I'm not a good match for you. I knew the pregnancy would make you realize this."

"So, you're saying..."

"I'm not a suitable mate. For your own sake, you should seek a better partner."

Yeah, great. The guy ignores Wei for months, tries to pass him onto someone else, doesn't bother to discuss anything, and then officially dumps him while he's carrying their kid. And better still, he gives him the 'it's not you, it's me' talk.

"The child deserves a proper father," Amon adds.

"Oh," says Wei. To think that Amon ever saw him as more than just some stupid, clingy Yin. That's great. That's perfect. Why is he outraged by any of this, anyway? He should've taken the hint after Amon failed to visit him within weeks after he moved in with Jiru.

Then Wei does something that he'd never dream of doing if he wasn't pregnant:

He puts his hands on Amon's shoulders.

And he knees the fucker in the balls.

(Which, allegedly, isn't as painful as giving birth, and there are male Yins who'll attest to this.) 

Amon's eyes widen, probably out of disbelief as much as pain.

\--

And, as Noatak hunches his shoulders in agony and tries to keep his breathing steady, refusing to double up and fall over just because a nonbender has managed to land a cheap kick below the belt when he wasn't expecting it, he catches himself thinking, _see, this is what happens when I tell the truth to people_.

\--

Wei then just stands there and stares at the man in front of him. It takes him a moment to remember that Amon is more than capable of kicking his ass. 

When Amon glances up at Wei again, it's like he's facing a stranger. There's no recognition in his eyes. Wei is an obstacle, not a person. And Wei thinks, _that's it, I'm dead_. You don't have to hurt a Yang or an In-Between much to make them want to kill you. This is why, when you face someone stronger than you, you don't show any restraint. You have to be worse than they are so they don't get the chance to hit back, because if they hit back, then you're fucked.

Instinct tells Wei: _Punch him. Knock that mask off his head. Try to get in one last shot._ But Wei can't bring himself to move. Even if he could land a few more hits on Amon, it wouldn't change anything. Wei would still be a stupid, useless asshole who's been dumb enough to get knocked up by an absolute shitstain of a man. Wei has disgraced himself.

Amon stares back at him. Then he lowers his gaze to Wei's belly for just a split second, and a strange thing happens: Wei can almost _see_ the guy's mind bump against a line that it refuses to cross. 

Amon then takes a few deep breaths, slowly straightens his shoulders, and says, sounding a little strained, "Alright, I deserved that."

Wei keeps watching him until he's sure that Amon isn't about to beat him into a pulp.

Amon doesn't seem angry, although it's difficult to read him.

Wei steps back, walks over to the bed, and sits down heavily.

Amon cautiously follows, though he remains standing. 

"I... haven't handled any of this very well," Amon says. There's something horribly un-Amon-like about the statement, and the admission sounds like it's been yanked out of him with a pair of pliers.

Somehow, this statement manages to be more unsettling than the idea that Amon seemed ready to attack Wei just a moment ago.

Amon isn't meant to be as stupid and screwed up as everybody else.

"It's not that I don't need you anymore," Amon says.

" _But_ ," Wei prompts, still afraid that he's going to start crying any moment now. For fuck's sake, he can't be having emotions like this. He's too old. Everyone should stop having emotions past the age of twenty. Wei is dangerously close to becoming the perfect stereotype of a weepy Yin.

"We have to do what's fair for the child," Amon says.

The asshole has a point. Wei can't expect Amon to stick around and be a father. Wei doesn't have to be happy about this, but he does have to be pragmatic.

Wei keeps his gaze on the floor, wipes his nose on the back of his wrist, and says, "Understood."

Amon moves closer to him, and crouches. He puts his right hand on Wei's shoulder and lets it rest there for a few seconds, then gently pushes Wei back slightly, making him sit upright.

He places his left hand on Wei's belly again. There's something soothing about this.

"You do want this child, don't you?" Amon asks.

Wei nods, even though the question makes him uneasy.

"Then need I remind you that your association with me puts you at great risk?" Amon says.

Wei only shrugs at that.

"Can you imagine how you'd feel if something happened to the baby?" Amon says.

Wei could tell Amon to eat shit, yet the idea of losing the kid somehow still gives him the horrors. He's not sure why. Maybe it's because the kid is Amon's, or maybe it's because the kid is physically part of him and, on some level, the kid's survival will be a reflection of his own resilience.

"If I ordered you to stay out of harm's way and let other people take care of you, would you do it?" Amon asks.

That's a hell of a question. There's something disgustingly appealing about the prospect of being a kept man. Wei can't answer.

Amon runs his hand up Wei's chest, then up along his neck, then cups his chin so he can lift Wei's head, forcing Wei to look at him.

"You've been alone for a very long time," Amon says gently. "Do you want me to mount you?"

Wei sighs, shuts his eyes, and just nods. He tries to not feel disgusted with himself. Consenting to sex isn't the same as forgiving someone. Wei's body wants what it wants.

"Very well, then," Amon says, back to sounding cold and sensible again. Wei should hope for a cold and sensible child. Maybe the kid will grow up to be someone calm and calculating who'll make a difference to the world, and not an idiot who gets knocked up by a lover they can't keep. 

"What do you want me to do?" Amon asks.

Wei sits back on the bed, pulls his pants off, and dutifully gets onto all fours.

\--

Afterwards, when Amon has slipped away and Wei is sprawled alone on the bed, Wei muses aloud, "I can't believe I kneed him in the balls."

Then he starts laughing to himself. Holy shit. He actually thought was going to die.

The baby gives him a hard kick.

"Don't you start," Wei tells it.


	3. Chapter 3

When Wei sees Jiru in the kitchen the next morning, Jiru asks, "You're not going to tear my dick off, are you?"

"Not before breakfast," Wei says, staring at him balefully across the table. "Lemme ask you something. What did... What did my ex tell you about me, when you agreed to let me stay here?" 

Jiru winces, although he must've known that this conversation was inevitable. "He just said that you might need a Yang for... various things, and just that he was fine if you decided that, uh..."

Wei wonders if Amon has a few issues about being an In Between, but quickly decides that this is too tidy an explanation for Amon's behavior.

"It was a pretty awkward conversation, to be honest," Jiru mutters.

"Didn't you find that strange that he thought it was okay for us to be together?" Wei straightens his back so he's looming over Jiru a little. Wei is good at looming. "You didn't find it _odd_ that he was like, 'oh, can you do me a favor and take care of my Yin, all you need to do is pretend to listen when he talks about his feelings, and feed him three times a day, and give him a good pounding if he needs it'?"

Jiru leans away from him, although he does frown and set his jaw before saying, "Lots of Yins need human contact when they're expecting. There's nothing wrong with that. And he just knew that he couldn't always be around to provide the support you'd need."

Wei stares at him.

"Uh," says Jiru, who should probably make an excuse to leave the kitchen right now. "We... That is, we thought you'd want..."

"Why didn't either of you ask me about what I wanted?" Wei asks. "I'm an adult human being. I, what, shit, I _can't believe you two_. I've actually traded sex for money and stuff in the past, and let me tell you, none of that ever made me feel as used as this did. This is fucking vile."

"I thought Amon _had_ discussed things with you before-..." Jiru mutters, before shutting up for a moment. Then he says, "With all due respect, I, uh, suspect that he might not, um, be thinking very objectively about... Your situation. Probably because he still loves you."

Right. What a neat excuse love would be. Why do people do weird shit? Out of love, of course! Because love is complicated!

Wei gives the most cynical chortle he can muster.

Then he resumes staring at Jiru. Jiru looks uncomfortable. Good.

"I am going to go open the tea house," Jiru says primly. He leaves his breakfast untouched, and abandons the table so he can slink out the kitchen.

\--

Wei avoids Jiru for the next two days. 

Wei spends far too much money on history books from a market stall, then holes up in his room with them.

Whenever his mind strays from his reading material, he wonders if the pregnancy has made Amon dumber in some way. There are a lot of people who say that coitus with Yins drains people's Yang essence, causing them to become witless and dull. Maybe that's it. Wei stole Amon's essences. Maybe Wei has a magical intelligence-draining ass. Maybe Wei is just a cold, sucking void of a person. Nine out of ten of his exes might agree.

But, quite seriously, Wei doubts that Amon's uncharacteristic bout of idiocy can be blamed on love.

Hell, maybe there's no point in dwelling on it. Wei shouldn't have been fucking Amon in the first place. The two of them have more important things to worry about, and their working relationship was just fine until they brought sex into things. 

People might say that Wei has just managed to drag Amon down to his level.

Wei resolves to stop thinking about the matter. He concentrates on reading out loud to the baby. His current book is about the eradication of the Air Nomads, though it's actually quite sterile and bloodless. The deaths are just numbers to him. Very large numbers, but numbers all the same. 

The book leaves him unsettled. He's not sure why. Maybe it's because the Air Nomads were meant to be a nation of pacifists, a nation that embodied all the 'proper' Yin virtues, and they were destroyed for it. Maybe that's how it is with benders. They uphold a culture of violence, and the ones who don't fit this culture are inevitably eradicated. As long as benders exist, they force everyone to be as ruthless as they are, purely for the sake of survival.

After Wei has finished the book, he puts it down carefully, and wonders if his kid might one day resent him for bringing it into such a shithole of a world.

In a desperate attempt to cheer himself up, he tries to imagine what Jiru would look like naked. Why? No reason.

\--

Wei runs into Jiru again when the guy has a day off work. The two of them end up using the kitchen at the same time, and Wei seizes the opportunity to corner him.

"You want to fuck me, right?" Wei asks.

"Wha," says Jiru,

"You know the other day, when you propositioned me?" Wei says. "You actually wanted to fuck me. Right?"

"Yeah?" Jiru says, then glances around for an escape route. "Dammit, Wei, it's too early in the morning for you to pick a fight with me. Pick a fight with me after noon."

"I'm not trying to pick a fight, man. I'm trying to figure out what you want."

Jiru turns his head slightly so he can side-eye him.

"Do. You. Want. To. Fuck. Me?" Wei asks.

Jiru clears his throat. "Before I answer that, you please confirm that you have absolutely no intention of tearing my dick off?"

"Oh, for-" Wei holds his hands up in frustration. "Just answer my question."

"I'm very attached to my dick."

"Jiru."

"I need it for things."

" _Jiru._ "

Jiru takes a deep breath. "If you wanted me to have sex with you," he says, very cautiously, "then, yeah, I might be up for that. If, you know, you were fine with it, and you didn't consider it to be adultery."

Hmm. Wei leans back against the kitchen counter and crosses his arms over his belly. "You know you're not expected to have sex with me, right? You're not under any obligations to help me out. I'm not gonna force you into anything."

Jiru actually looks Wei up and down, and smiles. The little shit has brass balls. "You wouldn't have to force me."

"I'm pregnant with someone else's kid," Wei says, as if Jiru has forgotten this minor fact.

"Yes," Jiru says, with far too much enthusiasm.

Wei needs a moment to consider the implications of this.

"You're fucking..." Wei pauses to find the right word. He needs a good, heavy-duty word for Jiru right now. "... _Depraved_." Though that might be a mite bit hypocritical given that Wei's previous sexual adventures include asking a (former) boyfriend to choke him, getting spit-roasted by two guys at a roadhouse a few years back, and the recent misuse of a kali stick. (Though he doesn't intend to use the stick in a fight ever again. He's not _that_ bad.)

"Oh, come on, it's not depraved at all. Sex with a pregnant Yin is pretty tame," Jiru says. "There aren't many positions you can use, so the person doing the penetrating just kind of has to..." Jiru spreads his hands. "Get right on there and go at it, I guess."

Wei needs another moment to imagine Jiru getting right on there and going at it.

Jiru gives him a tentative grin.

Wei's screwed worse guys, in worse circumstances.

And, unfortunately, Wei aches. He wants something that can only be described as an 'internal massage'. Regular fucking, with all its sweating and groping and maneuvering, seems a bit too energetic. His life has lost a lot of its edge. He no longer needs to screw Amon like they might both be dead tomorrow. Hell, he no longer needs to screw Amon. Amon can go screw himself.

'It's not that I don't want you anymore', Amon had said. Sure. Right.

"Anyway," Jiru says. "If you ever want me to scratch an itch you can't reach, let me know."

Wei considers running off to a monastery and committing himself to asceticism just so he doesn't have to deal with this kind of bullshit.

"You're... Not looking too keen," Jiru says. "I'll back off. I swear I'm not going to proposition you ever again."

"No, it's alright. I'm just kinda wondering if this a test of some kind, to see how faithful I am," Wei says, quietly. Amon must have thought that Wei would give himself over to Jiru sooner or later, otherwise he wouldn't have put them together. Amon's normally a good judge of character, and Wei doesn't know whether to feel guilty or offended that Amon expects him to sleep with someone else. Though, shit, Amon's gone and arranged it so that Wei's disloyalty has now become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Jiru has the sense to not comment.

"But he'd be above something like that," Wei says, then gives himself a metaphorical pat on the back for that statement, even though he doesn't quite believe it.

Jiru still keeps his mouth shut on that matter, probably aware that any attempts to reassure Wei might just make things worse.

Wei ignores any inconveniently painful feelings that he might be experiencing at the moment, and sizes Jiru up.

There's nothing imposing or exotic about Jiru. He looks like the human equivalent of comfort food. He bears a suspicious resemblance to one of the Yangs his sister used to set him up with. She'd approve of him.

But, at the end of the day, Wei has to be pragmatic.

"You know it's considered bad luck to have sex while expecting a baby?" Wei says.

"Oh," says Jiru, clearly disappointed.

"So it's a good job I'm not superstitious," Wei tells Jiru.

And that settles it.

\--

The first time they have sex, it's a pretty weird experience. Wei can't relax because 1) he looks like a fucking whale, and 2) he keeps expecting Amon to jump out from behind a door and yell, 'HOW DARE YOU PLAY 'POKE THE CHRYSANTHIUM' WITH OUR INTEL GUY. YOU CHEATING SCUMBAG.' (Not that Amon would ever say this. Amon would probably use words like 'wanton' and 'infidelity'.) 

Jiru goes slowly. He rubs the small of Wei's back, which isn't exactly a gesture that inspires Wei with uncontrollable lust, but it feels good. Jiru puts Wei in mind of a vet who's trying to soothe some sort of large, foul-tempered animal, and maybe he should feel insulted by this, but... Well, Wei is what he is, and sometimes a man just needs to be handled gently by someone with a great deal of patience. Besides, if Jiru was too rough, then Wei would bite or kick him.

Wei only has one brief moment of panic where he thinks, What the hell am I doing here? Don't I have better things to be doing than this? and then he shoves the thought aside.

He allows himself to be knotted for the first time. The sensation isn't all that special - anyone with half a brain could achieve the same results using their hand - and Wei ends up dwelling on how, in the eyes of some people, being knotted now makes him a 'real' Yin, with a 'real' relationship. This knowledge, and the awareness that other people have to be shitheads about everything, kind of spoils things. Still, he's determined to enjoy himself anyway. He's already pregnant. He's not got much to lose.

He becomes content to just take it and let Jiru do all the work. This carries the risk that Jiru might think he's bad in bed (the phrase 'lying there like a sack of cabbages' springs to mind), but whenever Wei steals a glance at the guy, Jiru is wearing such an idiotic grin on his face that he has to be okay.

The two of them fall into a steady, unexciting rhythm.

\--

So sex ends up becoming part of Wei's routine. 

This is Wei's life now: he eats, he reads, he does light work, and he gets laid. (Jiru once asks him mid-coitus whether Wei would prefer it if he wore a mask. Wei does not find this funny.) All three activities distract him from the discomfort of pregnancy.

There's nothing ambitious about his existence. 

And there are plenty of days when he's actually fine with this, although there are still times (like when he catches sight of his reflection in a bedroom mirror, and he can see himself lying on his side, fat and naked as a heifer, stupefied with pleasure while Jiru pounds away at him) when he thinks, _Welp, I was meant to be part of a revolution. Kind of fucked that one up._

Yet despite his reservations, Wei starts to like being Wei.

There will always be a part of him that wants the world to be different, but somehow it seems different now. Pregnancy might prevent him from bringing change through brute force, but he resents the idea that this makes him useless. History isn't written by the strong. History is written by the clever.

Whenever he's alone with time on his hands, he keeps reading. He likes books about wars. There's something uniquely cosy about sitting in a kitchen next to a warm stove while you read about decades of violence and unimaginable suffering happening to other people.

\--

Sometimes Wei sleeps in Jiru's bed, and then they wake up at the same time and talk about bullshit and politics as they make breakfast, as if they're a real couple.

During one of their mornings together, Jiru catches Wei supine in bed with his hands on his belly, legs slightly spread, still naked from the past night's activities - completely bereft of modesty, dignity, and everything else befitting a guy who was meant to be the second-in-command of a paramilitary force - and Jiru tells him, "You look amazing."

Wei holds his breath for a moment, embarrassed and strangely aroused by Jiru's interest in him, and then he tells Jiru to shut the fuck up, because Jiru is a dirty bastard with a pregnancy fetish.

"Uh, I was going to offer a blow job," Jiru had said.

Wei permits the blow job.

And afterwards, as he lies there with Jiru's head resting on his thigh, Wei stares at the wallpaper and has a very low-key identity crisis for about two minutes.

\--

There comes a time when the people at the repair shop start to imply - very carefully - that Wei should stop working there and go relax. Wei ignores them. He's lazy enough already. He has a dark suspicion that people just want him to lie around and be an incubator.

The old fart who owns the repair shop eventually confronts Wei while he's wiring a headlight, and says, "Son, if people see that I'm employing a guy who's heavily pregnant, they're going to think I'm some sort of slave-driver."

"It's not like I work at the front counter. Your customers hardly ever see me," Wei says. He's always kept a low profile, even before he got huge. Keeping a low profile is just something that goes with being the Lieutenant. (Though it helps that Wei's always been kind of forgettable anyway.)

"People see you when come here in the morning and when you leave in the afternoons!" the old fart says. "You're large. You stand out."

Well, there might be some truth to that. Wei's belly is a defining visual trait that's a lot more memorable than 'he has a moustache' or 'he frowns all the time'.

The old fart softens his tone and asks, "Don't you want to go home and sit in a comfy chair?"

What Wei wants is to feel like a useful human being who's contributing to something, even if that means working in a crappy little repair shop because no one wants him anywhere near a chi blocking class or any sort of political activity. Pregnancy has turned him into a pariah. 

"Yeah," Wei says, fighting back anger, "Sure."

The old fart gets an 'oh fuck I think I've upset him' expression on his face. It's an expression that Wei has seen before, on Jiru. It is the expression of a man who doesn't know whether he should offer consolation or start running as fast as possible.

Very quietly, the old fart murmurs, "Lieutenant, I know you ignore half of what I tell you, but I'm going to tell you anyway, and I'll be blunt: childbirth can fuck you up, and that baby needs to turn out alright. If something goes wrong, then things might turn nasty for... Well, a few people. So go home, go let your Yang look after you, and go focus on having the kid safely. Then once it's out, you can get on with your life."

Wei needs a moment to think of a reply to that.

"I'm not trying to scare you, but sometimes a bit of fear is healthy," the old fart adds. "I've heard about how you fight. I don't think you want to take that sort of attitude into the delivery room with you. The baby will need you to be in a good state after the birth."

Wei twirls a screwdriver around in his fingers, and gives the old fart a blank look, then says, "Fine. This'll be my last day of work."

"Glad to hear it," the old fart says, carefully. "You might be staring at me like you want to punch me in the throat right now, but I think it's for the best if you go take care of your health."

Wei only nods, and can't help feeling defeated.

\--

It turns out that taking time off work makes no noticeable improvement to Wei's health at all, although the inactivity _does_ drive him completely batshit.

He takes a lot of walks. He avoids Jiru, for Jiru's own sake. He makes pointless little patrols of the city. He ignores his swollen feet and a hundred other things. Occasionally he'll pass someone else who's also pregnant (it's funny: you see a lot of families about, but hardly any pregnant people) and he'll force himself to be amenable whenever they draw him into a conversation. 

He's slightly intimidated by the people who are half his age but already have kids. They talk to him as if he knows more about pregnancy than he actually does. Every so often, they surprise him by revealing some gruesome biological truth he hadn't known about. He's grateful to the ones who have the guts to warn him about the things which shouldn't be discussed in polite company.

After one particularly graphic conversation, Wei returns to the tea house one evening, and tells Jiru, "I don't want you in the room while I'm giving birth."

"Why? Because birth involves a lot of yelling and bodily fluids going everywhere?" Jiru asks as he mops the floor. 

The tea house is closed, so Wei sits at a table by himself. Someone has left a ceramic cup full of something unpleasantly yellowish on the table, and Wei pushes the cup away from him as he answers, "Yeah."

"Alright. But that's all pretty normal," Jiru says helpfully. "Actually, labor is one of the few times when it's socially acceptable for you to shit yourself and throw up while a bunch of people stare at your genitals."

"I'm not going to shit myself," Wei says grimly.

"Well, I guess _you_ won't, because male Yins lose the ability to crap once the cervix dilates past a certain point."

"Uh," says Wei.

"Your assholes can't multi-task," says Jiru.

"Huh," says Wei.

"Though you _will_ dump out a lot of mucus as a way of flushing out your plumbing before the baby starts moving through it, so I'll..." Jiru looks down at his mop he's holding. "Probably still need _this_ afterwards."

"Ugh," says Wei.

"On the plus side, the mucus is meant to be antiseptic. Like saliva. You know how saliva is meant to help heal wounds?"

Wei holds up his hands. "That... That's great, Jiru. Thanks. Thanks for telling me this."

But Jiru keeps talking. "So when my ex husband had our Xue Fang, he spent a lot of time sitting over a bucket, while when my first wife gave birth to Lien, it was like she had really bad food poisoning-"

" _Jiru_ ," Wei rasps. He's beginning to suspect that the guy's failed marriages have something to do with the fact that he can't keep his fucking mouth shut about other people's bodily functions.

"I know," Jiru says. "Childbirth is a beautiful thing."

Wei grips the edge of the table and leans forwards. "Jiru, if you ever tell anyone about what I did while I was giving birth, I'm gonna make sure no one'll be able to identify your corpse afterwards."

"What? I'm just saying!" Jiru replies, a mite indignant. "You seem scandalized by all this."

"It's like every time I think I know everything about pregnancy, someone tells me something new," Wei says, and sits back. "Shit. I don't know. I just... I don't want more than one person looking at my naked ass at any given time. Not when I'm sober, anyway."

"Look, if you don't want me around to see you pushing out the kid, then I'm not going to question that, but it's traditional for _someone_ to be present during the birth. You're meant to have someone with you, like a mate or whatever, so..." Jiru pauses and leans against the mop handle. "Would you like to have the kid's other father present?"

"Fuck no."

Jiru gives him an odd look. "He'd do it if you asked, you know."

Wei is reminded of the nightmare where Amon just stands there and watches, waiting to see if Wei is useful enough to provide a viable heir. It's just a nightmare, though. Wei doesn't think Amon would actually do that. If anything, Amon's been a deadbeat. 

"No," Wei says. "I'd like to keep my dignity around that guy."

That prompts a snort from Jiru. "It might be a bit late to worry about that. He's already seen you in bed, so to speak."

"Did you," Wei says, " _Did you_ just call me undignified in bed?"

Jiru takes a few seconds to reflect on how he should answer that question, then apparently decides to live dangerously. "Kind of. It's hot."

When Wei doesn't reply, Jiru adds, "Buddy, _everyone_ is undignified in bed. It's all grunting noises and legs everywhere and things spurting." He then pauses. "Well, good sex is all legs and spurting. Bad sex is more... chafing and cramp."

"Congrats. I'm not fucking you ever again," Wei says, which is a lie.

Jiru gives him a look of exasperation. "Oh, come on. Sex is like the one time you drop your guard and actually seem happy. I know you want people to think of you as some grumpy implacable fight machine, but you're actually kind of..."

"Think carefully before finishing that sentence."

Jiru goes back to mopping. "I'm just saying, you have personality traits _other_ than a seething hatred for all benders and a constant desire to fight everybody."

Wei doesn't dignify that comment with a response, though he fixes Jiru with a stare.

"Yeah, that death glare doesn't work on me anymore, sorry," Jiru says, and just keeps swirling the mop over the floor as if he's writing calligraphy in a language known only to him. "You take yourself far too seriously."

Wei almost replies with 'no I don't,' but realizes that this would make him sound like a sulky eight-year-old.

Jiru smiles to himself, although the smile is a little too cryptic and joyless for Wei's comfort. "Hey, Wei. If I ask you a weird question, can you do me a favor and... Not take it the wrong way?"

"Depends on the question," Wei replies.

Jiru nods. "Alright, I'll risk it. Here goes: don't you guys ever get tired of being so fucking _grim_ all the time?"

"'You guys?'" Wei repeats.

"You, the big guy, the others who are higher up the food chain than me. You always seem so pissed off." 

"What? You expect us to be happy about everything?"

"No. Look. You know I respect you, and I share your aims, but..."

"Go on."

Jiru opens his mouth to speak, but hesitates. He scratches his chin, then leans the mop against a wall before walking over to Wei's table. He takes a seat opposite Wei, and leans in so he can talk quietly.

"You really, really fucking hate anyone who can bend," Jiru says. "Like, it goes beyond fighting the triads, and it goes beyond recognizing that society is biased, and it kind of even goes beyond acknowledging that people with power usually abuse it."

Wei says nothing. 

"Sometimes I get the impression that you hate benders not because of what they do, but what they _are_ ," Jiru continues. "And, uh... Look, I know things are messed up, and I want society to be better, but I don't have the energy to sustain that kind of misanthropy, so-"

Wei watches him patiently.

"I'm probably not explaining myself very well," Jiru says.

Wei drums his fingers on the tabletop.

"I'm not judging you, though," Jiru add quickly. "It's just that... I can look at individual benders and I can know that they're part of the problem, but I can't hate them for it. I hate the _triads_ , sure, but that's it. I can't look at every single bender and think, 'that guy is exactly the same as the bastard who mugged me one time', or 'that guy is just like the thugs who used to harass everyone on my street for protection money'. I'd go crazy if I thought like that."

Wei stops drumming his fingers.

"You alright?" Jiru asks.

"What?" says Wei.

"You were looking kind of miserable for a moment there," Jiru says.

"S'just pregnancy hormones or whatever," Wei says. "I don't know." And that's the truth. He doesn't know. He has no idea what he's feeling at the moment. He can't identify it.

Jiru nods, and rests his elbows on the table. His gaze settles on Wei's right hand.

"Jiru?" Wei says.

Jiru looks up.

"How the fuck do you look at benders and not hate them?" Wei asks. "How do you stop yourself from associating them with, uh... Well, the things they've done?"

Jiru's gaze goes back to Wei's right hand again. "I don't know. Maybe I figure that life's too short for that."

"I know life's too short," Wei says, irritated.

Jiru reaches for Wei's hand, and brushes his thumb over his knuckles.

Wei finds himself talking: "Y'know, when I was new to the organisation, there was this girl who I was friends with I guess. She knew what I was up to, and she didn't approve. And she gave me this long spiel about how it's not the benders who're the real problem, it's the rich people, and plenty of rich people can't bend, blah blah blah, and that people with money have the real power while poor benders just get used as enforcers, and..." Wei shrugs. "I don't reckon she was completely off-base, and there was a truth to what she said, but here's the thing: I don't fucking care. It doesn't change anything in my head."

Jiru now looks at him with a mix of concern and - worse - curiosity, and Wei realizes that he's said too much. 

"Anyway, maybe benders are part of the problem, maybe rich people are part of the problem," Wei says. "But eliminating benders is a start."

Jiru begins, "You know, if there's ever-"

Wei interrupts him. "Can we go back to discussing embarrassing pregnancy shit?"

Jiru only smiles slightly, and gives Wei's hand a squeeze.

\--

Towards the end of the pregnancy, Amon visits Wei again.

As before, Amon slips in through the bedroom window. Wei is sitting on the floor at the time, another book in his hands. Wei doesn't stand (partly because he wants to be rude, and partly because the baby has dropped and it feels like he's carrying a lead weight in his pelvis), but he offers Amon a nod, bowing his head just enough to give it some formality.

Amon keeps his distance. "How are you?" he asks.

Amon's presence doesn't hurt too much. Wei's bitterness is unpleasant, but tolerable. "I'm good," Wei says. "Everything's going to schedule. How's things?"

"Likewise," Amon says. He no longer seems imposing, just strange, like a character who's wandered out of a myth and got horribly stuck in reality. A lost spirit.

There is an uncomfortable pause, and Wei thinks he reads curiosity in Amon's posture. 

_I smell like Jiru now,_ Wei realizes. A cynic (or just a very bitter Yin who knows how people think) might say that Wei has undergone a change in ownership, although there are days when Wei would like to tell Jiru and Amon both, 'Guess what, I don't belong to either of you chuckleheads. The baby owns my miserable ass now. The little fucker has even reconfigured my body for its convenience. And how does it show its gratitude? By constantly hitting me in the bladder.'

Amon remains quiet.

Wei is tempted to prompt him for information about the organization's recent activities. Wei could say something like, 'Jiru told me that Nosebleed Tanaka fled town after you broke his arms,' or 'I hear that you wrecked Gravedigger Chen's numbers operation last week'. But Wei is banging one of the organization's most trusted intelligence officers, so there's can't be too much stuff that Amon knows and Wei doesn't.

Wei watches Amon expectantly. If Amon wants a conversation, then he'll have to instigate it himself. The guy must have had a valid reason for coming here.

Here's a morbid thought: maybe Amon is visiting because the pregnancy is nearing its end, and Amon wants to give Wei one last briefing before Wei goes off to do something messy and dangerous.

"I thought I'd better ask in person, before you have the child..." Amon says. "Is there anything you need from me?" 

_Any next of kin you'd like me to notify if things don't go to plan?_

Maybe Wei is being needlessly pessimistic. He's not a young parent, but his odds aren't _that_ bad. He has good medical care (though not the best, because you need a Northern healer for that, and Northern healers just exploit people because healthcare is a seller's market), and he's in good shape, and he's not too bothered by the prospect of pain. Childbirth should be a temporary discomfort. Though you could say that all discomfort is temporary, in one way or another.

"I think I'm okay," Wei replies. He's surprised by the gentle respect in his own voice. "Thanks."

It seems a little strange to tell Amon he doesn't need anything from him.

A small, dark part of Wei says, _You could ask him to give you truth about all the shit he's said about himself over the years that doesn't quite add up._ But Wei quickly pushes the thought away and pretends it never crossed his mind.

Amon gives a slow, gracious nod, and leaves the way he came in. He has the sense to close the window behind him. Wei goes back to his book.


	4. Chapter 4

It's a pleasant summer morning when Wei's back ache sets in with a vengeance, and he ends up pacing around the house in an attempt to walk it off. 

He's halfway going up some stairs when his waters break.

This doesn't come as a surprise, yet he still lets out an indignant grunt. He's been told by other Yins that you want to keep your waters from breaking for as long as possible - allegedly the sac of gunk helps spread out the pressure of the baby against your pelvis, or something - but hey, so much for that idea.

"Yeah, that's fucking foul," he says to himself, and goes to change his pants.

\--

Jiru finds Wei in the house's reception room, disassembling an old dynamo from a bicycle headlamp for no sensible reason.

"Er. You okay?" Jiru asks.

"My waters broke about fifteen minutes ago," Wei admits.

Jiru immediately brightens. "Great. I'll go fetch Yao..."

"Leave it. He's a busy man. I don't feel like I'm gonna pop out the kid any time soon. Give it a few hours."

"He could check up on you."

"I'm not in the mood for Yao sticking his fingers up my ass right now."

"If he checked your-"

"Get Yao to stick his fingers up your ass sometime. See how much you like it."

"Well, he could still-"

"No."

"Look, if you're anxious, then-"

"Jiru," Wei says, keeping his gaze on the screwdriver in his hand. "Who's having this baby, here? Me, or you?"

Jiru sighs as if Wei is the most unreasonable Yin he's ever met. "Okay. Fine. You need me to do anything?"

Wei almost suggests that Jiru could go find Amon and punch him in the kidneys. "No. I'm good." 

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want me to-"

"I'm fine."

"I have a need to feel useful."

"Well, I need you to stop needing to feel useful," Wei grumbles.

"Alright," Jiru says, but doesn't fuck off and leave Wei alone just yet. "How are you feeling?"

Wei tightens his grip on the screwdriver's handle. "Go make me some tea, Jiru."

Jiru gets the hint and fucks off.

\--

Wei disassembles a doorbell, an ignition magneto, a cheap watch, and something which might've been part of an intercom at some point. He also repairs a sewing machine, a mechanical toy lemur that clashes a pair of bo together, and a broken telephone, and he's just packing his tool kit away when the cramping around his waist gets a lot worse.

He paces up and down as if he can dissipate the pain through his feet.

Jiru sticks his head into the room. "Wei, what the hell. Can you go a bit easier on my floorboards, please? The ceiling of the room under this one has plaster falling off it."

"You can go fetch Yao now," Wei tells him, without looking up.

"Oh," Jiru says, followed by, "Shit." He jogs away. Wei can hear the thump of his footsteps as he heads outside.

Alone, Wei decides that he needs to concentrate. He's well-acquainted with stressful situations, and knows that he can push (ha) through this if he just stays calm and tries to keep a clear head.

He shuts himself in his bedroom. 

\--

Wei paces around for a little while longer, and then nausea forces him to sit down on the floor. He grabs a book on philosophy and makes an optimistic attempt at reading it.

Eventually he hears Jiru's voice from outside the door. "Wei?"

"I'm fine," Wei says. He's just in a great deal of discomfort, and very soon his asshole is going to do something that's outside its normal operating parameters, but he's fine.

"Yao's here," Jiru says. "Er, can we come in?"

"Let me think," Wei says.

Wei does think. Specifically, Wei thinks about the fact that his life will soon involve a lot grunting, nudity, and _possibly_ squirting. There will be all the indignity of sex, but none of the fun parts.

"No," Wei tells Jiru.

"Do you want to go to a hospital?" Jiru asks, even though Wei has stated, on numerous occasions, that he doesn't want to give birth in a hospital for a slew of very valid reasons.

"For fuck's sake, Jiru, no, I'm not going to a hospital, fuck off," Wei replies.

There's a pause from Jiru - he's probably sighing - and then he says, "Well, can you let Yao in, then? I'll stay in the hallway."

"I changed my mind. Yao's not needed," Wei says quickly. He's not sure where this statement comes from, other than a sudden gut feeling that Yao is going to make things worse. Doctors, by and large, are not good people. Doctors profit off human suffering.

Jiru doesn't reply for about five seconds, and then he says, "I think you need a doctor present during a first birth, Wei."

Bullshit. Plenty of people from his village had their first births without doctors, and they were just fine. Except for the ones who, you know, _died_ , but...

"And you're kind of old for this," Jiru says.

This is true, although Wei is getting tired of being reminded about this fact.

"And need I point out that if anything happens to you or the baby, the baby's _other_ father is going to... ask me a lot of difficult questions?" Jiru adds.

Wei does not give a flying fuck what the baby's other father might or might not do. The baby's other father isn't here right now, because the baby's other father is probably off punching gangsters and telling people that they need to liberate themselves from triad exploitation. The baby's other father doesn't have to worry about excruciating pain and embarrassing involuntary bodily functions.

"Also," Jiru says, "if you tear, then you'll need Yao on hand to sort it out as soon as possible. The longer you leave wounds like that untended, the worse they heal..."

Well, there is that.

Wei screws his eyes shut for a moment so he can count to ten, then stands, opens the door, and lets both Jiru and Yao inside.

\--

Yao examines Wei, fails to tell him anything useful, and then there's an awkward wait where everyone just loiters around and drinks a lot of tea. Jiru provides food. Yao and Jiru end up discussing how Republic City's current economic climate is unsustainable. Wei doesn't contribute, as he spends most of the time on his hands and knees on the floor, trying to force himself to relax while Jiru rubs his back, although he does eventually yell at them to talk about something less depressing.

It's boring. Wei just wants to cut to the 'screaming agony' part of childbirth so he can get it over with. He does his best to hide his unease from Jiru, although Jiru picks up on it anyway, and starts to tell Wei stupid little stories about weird customers he's had over the years. Wei ends up laughing, which feels rather strange.

Gradually, the pain becomes more purposeful. The weight pressing down on the floor of Wei's pelvis grows heavier, and he gets the overwhelming urge to push. His body has decided that it no longer wants to have a baby in it, and the matter is not open to negotiation.

Then, some time in the afternoon, it starts to feel like someone is prising Wei's hips apart with a crowbar.

This causes an abrupt shift in Wei's priorities.

Wei doesn't care if he has to take all his clothes off because he's too hot. He doesn't care what he looks like. He doesn't care when Yao has to bring in an assistant, a wispy girl who Wei has never seen before. He doesn't care if he's physically sick. He doesn't even care when Jiru talks to him as if he's five years old, although he does manage to tell the guy, "I outrank you, you smarmy fuck," at one point.

The universe takes on a brutal simplicity. There's no room for shame in it. Childbirth is like being in the presence of some old, primal spirit that says, _oh yes, you fuckos can delude yourselves with your civilisation and your social constructs and your prudishness, but this is what it's all about._ This _is how you're made._

 _(And you, Wei? You think you're meant to be the Lieutenant? You want to be a_ concept _, not a person made of flesh and blood? Grow the fuck up.)_

A religious individual might find it humbling. Wei just wants it to be over. 

The sky outside goes dark, and Wei's limbs seize up from holding the same positions for too long, and his patience wears thin. He can feel himself getting dangerously tired.

Wei doesn't know what it's like to drown, but he imagines it's a lot like this: you give your best shot at swimming, but you feel yourself getting more and more exhausted, and you body gradually shuts down until your consciousness is just a small voice trapped in a lump of heavy flesh.

Wei gets enough breath in his lungs to tell Jiru, "This isn't working."

"You're doing okay," Jiru says as he rubs Wei's back. 

Wei would like to say, 'How the fuck do you know?' but he loses the ability to speak as the next contraction hits.

Yao chimes in, "First births just take a while, that's all. The baby's moving. You should feel the head soon."

Well, it needs to move faster. Wei is terrible at this whole childbirth thing. He'd assumed that his body was just meant to sort things out by itself, but it's not doing a very good job. He wonders if this is all his fault because he had sex while pregnant. He can almost hear his mother yelling, 'THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR BEING A NASTY TRAMP,' at him.

"How soon is soon?" Wei asks.

"Well, it's not an exact science, but you're doing okay," Yao says, which is a shitty answer.

"You're all fucking useless," Wei informs everyone present, even though talking is a waste of energy.

Wei remembers telling Jiru that he wanted the kid's life to be prioritized over his if something went wrong. He's not sure if he regrets saying that. He's always figured he'd end up giving his life for something, although he hadn't expected it to be like this.

Funny. He hasn't been bothered by the prospect of death in a very long time.

"Wei?" Jiru says gently.

"What?" snaps Wei.

"You're looking a little worried, honey," Jiru says, which has to be Jiru-speak for 'you look fucking terrified'.

"Did you just fucking call me _honey_?" Wei snarls.

"Yeah, you're fine," Jiru mutters. "You're alright. Nothing bad's going to happen."

Wei doesn't dignify that comment with a response. 

He keeps pushing. It hurts. It hurts more than broken ribs or smashed fingers. He can't remember the last time he was in this sort of pain, although that may be because he's made a conscious effort to forget anything _this_ bad.

It doesn't help when he senses Yao's unease. Wei's spent so much time around a guy in a mask that he's developed a knack for reading body language, and there's a tell-tale abruptness in Yao's gestures.

Jiru holds a cup of water to Wei's mouth. Wei wants to knock it out his hand. Wei hears Jiru say, "How long is he meant to keep this up? He looks worn out."

Yao's voice sounds like it's coming from a distant room: "I think he's had long enough. He's not pushing effectively. We'll need to get him on his back."

Wei can't even articulate how much he hates them for talking over his head, never mind Yao's 'not pushing effectively' comment.

Jiru puts his hands under Wei's arms to lift him up. Wei finds himself being manhandled and re-arranged and set down on the bed. His ankles are held, and his legs are lifted so Yao can poke around inside him. His legs are then pushed back as if everyone's trying to fold him in half, and he grips Jiru's sleeve and tries to convince himself that this is only being done to him for his own good. He doesn't cry, beg, or scream, because that never helps. 

Yao then puts a hand on Wei's belly and presses against it. Wei fights to breathe, and the pressure in him shifts, and the pain changes.

"Alright, I think we're safe," Yao says. "Stop pushing." Like it's that easy.

Wei makes a noise that fully conveys his desire to rip Yao's face off. Jiru leans away from him a little, but still tenderly strokes his hair.

It now feels like someone's taking a blowtorch to Wei's ass. The agony lends him the the energy for anger. He resents being given orders, and he resents being held in place, and he resents the view between his legs, and he resents how everyone is looking at him. (He _deeply_ resents the fact that he wants to cry on Jiru's shoulder right now.) He also resents the methodical way that Yao wipes fluid away from the baby's head, as if Yao is a machinist trying to clean up a piece of equipment that's leaky and unreliable. And, most of all, he resents that he didn't actually choose Yao. Yao was chosen for him. As was Jiru, come to think about it.

As Wei starts to space out from pain, he stares at the blurred silhouettes of the people crowding around him, and he thinks, _You're all on Amon's side in this, aren't you?_

\--

And then it's over. The worst of the pain vanishes. Wei blinks black spots out of his eyes. He realizes that he's making a noise that's as much relief as it is misery.

He has just enough time to get his breath back, and then someone deposits a surprisingly large baby boy in his arms. The boy is ugly, whining, and covered in fuck-knows-what, so he has plenty in common with Wei already. Neither Wei nor the child choose to be here, yet here they are.

Wei's first instinct is to say, 'can someone take this thing off me again? I've already carried it for nine months. Go give it to Amon and let me die,' but morbid curiosity draws his attention to the baby's furious little face.

The baby looks like it's a hundred percent done with everything. It looks like an angry prune.

It's the funniest thing Wei has ever seen. Wei lets out a gasp of laughter, then winces.

Wei's never viewed a newborn up close before. They resemble tiny ogres made from rubber. Rubber ogres that've been dragged across the floor of a slaughterhouse a few times. Beautiful creatures. This one has big gray eyes and a decent head of hair.

The baby quickly stops crying. It squirms to get comfortable against Wei's chest, and stares at him.

Wei gives it a very gentle, very cautious nudge so it's in a better position for feeding. He murmurs, "Who the fuck are you?"

The baby looks like it's thinking exactly the same thing.

\--

After the baby's been fed (which feels strange, but no stranger than giving birth) and the weird business of the afterbirth has been been dealt with, Wei passes the kid to Jiru. He does it instinctively, although not without a deep sense of unease. The baby looks too pale and soft, as if it needs to be left out in the air so it can cure for a while, and Wei can't get over the fact that it was actually inside him until a short while ago. Handing the kid over to Jiru feels a bit like, well... Handing over one of his own internal organs.

Jiru takes the baby carefully, and continues to look relieved over the fact that the that the kid is actually out now.

Yao stands by Wei's bedside like an unwanted guardian. 

Yao says, "I'll have to massage your abdomen to make sure that your womb empties and shrinks down to size. It might be uncomfortable."

"Right," Wei says, narrowing his eyes at the guy.

Yao puts his hand on Wei's stomach and presses against it.

'Uncomfortable' is an understatement.

Wei somehow finds enough strength to punch Yao in the mouth.

\--

From that point onwards, Yao's assistant treats Wei, under Yao's instruction. Wei prefers the assistant. She smells comfortingly Yin-like.

Jiru takes one look at Yao's split lip and can't seem to resist saying, "You're injured! Somebody find a doctor! Oh. Wait. Never mind."

Yao does not find this funny.

\--

Wei looks down at the assistant as she cleans him up and tends to matters between his legs. Her hands are delicate and precise, and her expression is one of concentration.

"What's your name?" he asks the assistant.

"Lan, sir," she murmurs.

"Alright. Lan, on a scale of one to ten, with one being 'balloon knot' and ten being 'blown gasket', how bad does does my ass look right now?"

Lan freezes. She turns bright red. She says, "Um." Then she makes a circle with her hands, and holds it up.

"Fuck," says Wei. "I bet it looks like someone punched a hole in a slab of beef."

" _Sir_ ," Lan says.

"Do you want to try shouting down my ass to see if you can hear an echo?"

"At least you didn't tear much," she tells him, matter-of-fact.

"That's because I'm an old boiler. I'm surprised the baby didn't just walk out."

"Sir!" Lan squeaks.

Jiru comes to peer over Lan's shoulders, and mutters, "Maybe the baby couldn't get past the stick that's wedged up his backside."

"I'm a father. Show some fucking respect. Besides, the only thing that's been wedged up my backside lately is you," Wei tells him, before addressing Lan again. "D'you know why labor was so hard?"

"I don't know," Lan says. "Um, sometimes the muscles don't push in the right places. Sometimes the cervix or the birth canal are too narrow. Sometimes the baby gets stuck on the pelvis."

"Also you're old," Jiru contributes.

"Yeah, Jiru. I know," Wei tells him. "Thanks."

Lan adds, "You were doing pretty well though, otherwise. It just took you a while, is all."

Wei sits up a little so he can look at Lan properly. "How many births have you helped with before?"

Lan keeps her eyes lowered, as if she finds it less embarrassing if she just looks at Wei's nether regions. "Er. Just two. Including this."

What?

"The other one was my girlfriend's," Lan adds, deeply apologetic. "She had a really short labor and I was just there to catch her daughter. So I have to tell you that I'm not actually a qualified medical professional. I just... like learning about biology and stuff, I guess."

"And who the hell are you?" Wei asks Lan.

"I, uh, I'm the new chemical weapons specialist?" Lan mumbles.

"What, as in, you make bombs?"

"Yeah, I guess. Explosives are easy."

"Amazing," Wei says, and flops back down on the bed. "I have a bomb expert tending to my asshole."

Jiru grins ominously, and opens his mouth to speak.

"I don't know what you're gonna say, but I _do_ know I don't wanna fucking hear it," Wei tells him.

Jiru shuts his mouth again.

 

\--

Amon finally arrives when things have settled down. Both Wei and the kid have been made presentable, the kid has been fed again and placed in a cot, Yao's left to go clean up his split lip, Jiru's gone to help Yao, the Lan the assistant has gone to make tea. Wei just wants to be left alone in bed.

Wei lies in bed and tries to ignore the feeling that he's had a chunk of his innards ripped out. It's like he's lost a fight against his own body, although at least it was a fight he was allowed to walk away from.

Amon slips into the room without knocking, and briefly surveys his surroundings before his attention settles on Wei. He hesitates.

Wei wonders if he feels guilty.

Amon takes a step forwards, and says, "I'm glad you're alright."

_Yeah, sure._

Amon turns to stare at the sleeping baby for a minute, before heading over to Wei's bedside. 

Wei rolls over so he has his back to him.

There's an irritating scrape of chair legs against the floor as Amon pulls a seat closer to Wei's bed. For maybe two, three minutes, Amon doesn't do anything. Then he begins to stroke the base of Wei's spine.

Wei has no idea why this actually feels good.

"You should be proud of yourself," Amon says.

Something about this comment rankles Wei. He could easily respond with, 'yeah, thank fuck I produced a healthy baby boy, and not something weak and sickly, or a girl, and you know what, let's just hope that he'll grow up to be a Yang while we're at it, a _rich_ Yang at that, and maybe he'll even grow up to be a waterbender like a lot of my relatives, as we both know that the little shit needs all the advantages he can get', but he knows how hysterical that would sound. 

Exhaustion must be fucking with his head, although that's unusual for him. He's managed to keep his shit together just fine plenty of times while tired and stressed before. He's not sure why things should be different now. Must be hormones.

"How are you feeling?" Amon asks, still quiet.

Wei takes a deep breath, and tells Amon (beloved revolutionary, leader of the people, mediator between the two worlds), "My ass hurts."

Amon's hand pauses on Wei's back. Then, utterly devoid of his usual confidence, he says, "Should I fetch Yao?"

"No. He's done all he can. There are some pains you just have to live with," Wei says, before rolling over to face Amon again.

Amon has some difficulty meeting Wei's gaze. He seems so different from how Wei remembers him. His demeanour is all wrong. If Wei saw Amon like this a few months ago, he would've found it unnerving. As things stand currently, though, he's too tired to feel fear. Hell, if anything, he's oddly tempted to pat Amon on the shoulder and tell him things are going to be okay.

"You never planned on being a dad, huh?" Wei mutters.

Amon mulls over this comment, then lets out the smallest, driest little chuckle. "No."

"Yeah, I still don't know shit about parenting," Wei says, though he has no idea why he's admitting this to Amon of all people.

Amon rests his hands on his legs, and drums his fingers against his knees. After a measure of contemplation, he offers, "When I was young, I used to tell myself that if I was ever a father, I'd try to remember that the child _trusted_ me. That was all. Every child begins its life with absolute faith in its parents."

"Right. You're telling me that I got a lot of power to mess this kid up," Wei says. "That doesn't exactly inspire me with confidence, here."

"Yet you've been fine with acting in a position of leadership before. Why should parenting be any different?"

Wei isn't sure. Maybe it's because he's always had Amon to back him up, yet the idea of Amon helping him to raise a kid is absurd. 

Wei is on his own with this one. Sure, he has Jiru, but the kid is ultimately Wei's responsibility.

"I guess I'll have to wing it," Wei grumbles.

"That's how it seems to be for everyone," Amon says. He looks over at the sleeping infant. The mask remains inscrutable. "Can I ask for one favor?"

Wei almost says, _I just gave birth to your kid. You don't get to ask for shit_ , but instead he replies, "Yeah?"

Distractedly, as if as an afterthought, Amon says, "Don't insult him, and don't hit him."

Wei takes offense at this. Part of him wants to say, _I'd never hurt him_ , and another part of him wants to say, _and if I did hit him, so what? Every kid gets slapped occasionally_.

Wei then sees why Amon feels the need to ask such a favor. There's a good chance that Wei is going to end up losing his temper and walloping the kid at some point. Maybe four years down the line, maybe eight, maybe twelve. And there wouldn't be anything unusual about this. Plenty of parents hit their children, and there's a big difference between a parent who gives their child a light tap for bad behavior compared to a parent who drunkenly wails on their kid because they feel like it.

But, since the kid is currently small, pale, and squishy-looking, the idea of hitting him seems reprehensible.

Wei says, "I swear I won't lay a finger on him."

"Thank you," Amon replies.

As pain and exhaustion have given Wei a prickly sort of bravado, he asks, "You got smacked around as a kid, didn't you?"

There's only a brief hesitation, and then Amon replies, "Actually, no. My mother was too gentle, and my father was too proud of me. I was very lucky. Anyway. I'm sure this baby will have a similarly happy childhood. Jiru seems like a good father."

"Jiru already has two kids and he hardly talks about either of them," Wei says, because there has to be a catch somewhere. Wei can't see himself having a happy little family with a Yang. That's not how it works.

"That's unfair," Amon tells him. "One of Jiru's children is only three years old and lives with her Yin father... Who, I might add, is a firebender. He misses the two of them greatly. The other child is twelve, and only sneaks around to see Jiru whenever you're absent, because he's slightly scared of you. Ask Jiru about this."

Wei opens his mouth to say, _how come you know this shit and I don't?_ before something else crosses his mind. "Have you been watching me for the past few months?"

"For the sake of your safety."

"And it didn't fucking occur to you to come see me?"

"I visited you-"

" _Twice._ "

"I didn't forget you. However, you have a life here that I don't wish to intrude on."

"And, right, watching me doesn't count as intruding, is that it?"

"Watching out for you was an unavoidable precaution."

 _Right_ , Wei thinks, this argument is pointless, _because no matter what I say, you're going to twist it around so it looks like you were doing me a favor._ Yet he still says, "Great, thanks. Nothing bad happened to me, so good job. All I did was eat cake and get fucked. Did you see that, as well?"

"No. I might be a terrible mate, but at least I'm not a voyeur. You're exhausted," Amon says mildly, before standing up. "I expect you to hate me, and I'm not doing you any favors by being here. I'll talk to you again in a month's time. You deserve some rest," he says. And then, just like that, he leaves the room. He has a gift for making a fast exit.

Wei almost yells at him to wait, but decides to save his breath.

"I could fucking kill that guy," Wei tells the sleeping baby.

\--

Jiru visits to bring Wei more ginger tea. Wei already knows that he's going to be sick of ginger before the next month is over.

The baby stirs, and starts to cry. He's not too loud just yet, but Wei gets the feeling that the kid is just doing a few vocal exercises so he can work towards a good wail.

Jiru scoops the baby up, and squints at him.

"He's got a good scowl, but I'm so disappointed that he didn't come out with a moustache," Jiru admits.

"Give him a while. Perfection takes time," Wei says.


End file.
